


Cool Beans

by mitochondriencocktail



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Fluff, I was sad and struggling to write so I made myself do this, M/M, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 06:51:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11308005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitochondriencocktail/pseuds/mitochondriencocktail
Summary: It's literally "Four Times Richard and Jared Kiss, and One Time They Don't" because I'm an indulgent fuck. This takes place post-s4, but very loosely, so. There's, like, no super specific reference to canon really.





	Cool Beans

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! I've been struggling to write lately, but still had that urge to create something, so this happened. It's just a short indulgent piece to lift my spirits and get me to finish something. I tried to pull back from my heavy descriptions and narration and focus more on dialogue and moving things along, so [shrugs]. It's a little less dense feeling than what I normally go for because I wanted to experiment a bit and GET MY HEAD OUT OF MY OWN ASS FOR A HOT SECOND.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and any and all feedback is greatly appreciated! Also unbeta'd, so if there are any typos WHOOPS sorry. It's almost 5AM and I need to sleep.

**i.**

 

It all happens in a blur, a whiskey and coke-buzz rush of panic that starts with Richard being backed into a corner. She’s a nice girl, starry-eyed and pretty with brunet strands of hair tucked behind her ear, but Richard can’t stomach this right now. Fresh off seeing Winnie yet again with her shiny new German boyfriend, Richard had barely been able to muster going out to this terrible, awful, frankly cliche networking party. Had it not been for the newly revitalized status of Pied Piper, he wouldn’t have gone at all, Jared, Dinesh, and Gilfoyle in tow. It’d been difficult convincing them, but Richard was trying. To whatever god may be out there, he was fucking trying.

“I— I can’t. I have, uh,” he stutters. The girl, Claire, rests her hand on his forearm. Richard swallows. Across the packed, dim room he sees him like a tall beacon of safety, chatting amicably with some pretty girls, glass of water in hand. Jared looks up, cocks his head, and starts to walk over at Richard’s frightened expression. “My boyfriend.”

“Sorry?”

“Richard, is everything okay—” Jared starts. He’s cooled off on the extreme mother-henning lately, settled into a quiet sort of support, but he still always seems to appear when Richard needs him most.

“I appreciate your interest, but—” Richard grabs Jared by the arm, latching on like a lifesaver. He straightens up, enunciates the words with as much dignity as he can. “I have a boyfriend.”

For an agonizing few seconds there’s nothing but silence, and Jared tenses beside him.

“Richard,” Jared starts, and Richard feels his stomach drop. “I’ve been looking for you,” he says, the entire tone shifting. He looks down at Richard and smiles, a flawless facade of social competency. And then suddenly he’s pecking Richard on the lips; quick and minty, impeccable in execution. Claire’s eyebrows raise.

“Oh, god, I’m— I’m so sorry. I had no idea, I wouldn’t have…” she trails off, laughing self-consciously, slapping a hand to her forehead. “I was… wow. I’m so embarrassed right now. I was hitting on you  _ hardcore _ , and here I thought you were maybe being  _ shy, _ but, wow. Uh… gosh. I’m so sorry.”

Richard smiles, thin-lipped and tight. “It’s fine,” he says.

Claire ambles away back into the crowd, and Richard stands there, watching her. He remains motionless until Jared makes to disentangle himself, and it seems in doing so, he drops the facade; his tired eyes and distressed expression make a return.

“Was that satisfactory? I assume you were looking for an exit, right? I apologize for the impromptu kiss, but she didn’t seem entirely sold, so,” he shrugs, looking almost guilty.

“It’s fine,” Richard says. He can’t hear the music playing anymore suddenly. His heart is racing and his palms feel sweaty, like he’d just run a mile without stopping. Which, okay, some people can do that, but Richard is definitely not one of those people.

Jared nods, satisfied. “Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” he smiles, ducking his head. 

“Wait,” Richard blurts out, his hand grabbing onto Jared’s arm again. “She might— or there, uh. There might be others. It— it might be smart to, you know,” he shrugs, motioning vaguely with his free hand, “stick together. Just… in case. For the rest of the evening.”

Richard blames the whiskey and coke. Jared makes a small noise of surprise.

“If… that would put you at ease, I suppose I can do that, Richard.”

Richard takes another long swig of his drink and smiles. 

 

**ii.**

 

“She said I was bad at all of it— even the kissing!” Richard exclaims, pacing around the garage. He runs hands through his hair and sighs, suddenly cosmically deflated, and plops down on the cot next to Jared. Things had been improving since Richard’s apology, slowly but surely between the pair, and only recently had Richard felt comfortable coming to him once again, eager to spill his thoughts and feelings. “I can’t even kiss right,” he huffs.

“I’m sure that’s not true, Richard. It just takes some practice is all.”

Richard looks up, lips pressed tightly together. He scoffs. “And who the fuck would help me with that? Just… just find a girl at a bar? We’re not all you.”

“Oh,” Jared makes an embarrassed expression, waving a hand as if to dismiss the compliment, always so self-effacing. “No, I’m not—” he turns away, aborts the sentence. Richard catches a small smile on his lips. “Regardless, you’re a catch, Richard. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

“You always say that.”

“Well, it’s true,” Jared replies. “I could—” he sucks in a breath and blinks rapidly, cocking his head as if in thought, trying to pour out the words as delicately as possible. “I could perhaps show you.”

“How to pick up girls?” Richard laughs, a tinge bitterly.

“How to kiss,” Jared amends, a quick rush of words.

“Okay,” Richard finds himself saying. He doesn’t meet Jared’s eyes, and neither one of them moves for what feels like heavy minutes. “Okay,” Richard finally repeats again, nodding. He licks his lips. “Show me.”

“If you’d prefer we didn’t—”

“Just show me,” Richard repeats. His body still refuses to move, but Jared reaches a hand up and hesitates. Richard moves into it without thought, allowing his cheek to be cupped. A deluge of sensations pour through him, poignantly highlighting last month when Jared had pecked him on the lips. Richard giggles despite himself, and suddenly Jared is kissing him, smiling against his lips. It’s longer than the peck, but quicker than Richard finds himself wanting. 

“How was that?” Jared asks, pulling away.

Richard sucks in a breath. “Show me again, just… in case.” 

Jared is struck by surprise, but straightens up, nodding. He opens his mouth to say something, but then shuts it, leaning in instead. He’s kissing Richard again, and hands amble towards forearms and waists. Bodies gravitate towards one another.

The whole moment feels like a dreamy sigh.

“Was that satisfactory?” Jared asks, eyes hooded in a daze.

“You know—”

A sharp knock at the garage door sends them jolting apart. 

“Jared? Where’d you put the fabric softener?” Dinesh yells through the door. “And the detergent. ...Also which cycle do I put my shirts on again?”

“I should probably…” Jared points. Richard swallows, nods. 

“Yeah.”

He watches him go.

Richard smiles to himself for the rest of the day.

 

**iii.**

 

The third time it happens is probably the stupidest of them all. They’re drinking, Monica, Carla, Tara, and Bighead rounding out the group, and Jared sits attentively next to Richard, handing him occasional glasses of water in between beers and lord knows what else. They’re all laughing about something that Richard lost track of ages ago, but he’s happy; rosy-cheeked and carefree for what feels like the first time in years.

“It’s your turn, Richard, truth or dare?” Monica’s suddenly asking him. She’s wearing her Pied Piper jacket, and Richard starts giggling at it. 

“What?”

“Truth or dare, asshole,” Gilfoyle says. “You’re holding up the game.”

“We’re—” Richard glances around, the room tilting, “we’re playing truth or dare?” he laughs. “Is that why Dinesh just called the prison Mia’s in?” He wheezes with laughter, nearly falling off the couch.

“Oh fuck you,” Dinesh says, arms crossed, but he’s fighting a smile. He smiles with his eyebrows, Richard thinks distantly. “Just pick one, Richard.”

“I… uh,” he quirks his lips, smiling as he thinks it over. “Dare. No— no, truth.”

“No backsies,” Carla chimes in.

“Fuck,” Richard laughs. “Fuck, no, let me have backsies!”

“You said dare, no going back now, Hendricks,” Monica says. There’s a devilish glint in her eye, the very same that appears whenever Mario Kart is whipped out. “I dare you to…” she pauses, contemplating with a glance around the room. A thousand ideas flash behind her bright eyes before she finally settles on, “Kiss Jared.”

Richard scoffs. He feels bold, powerful. Little do they know, he’s already done that, so who’s laughing now? “That’s it? Weak,” he slurs, struggling to sit up and balance on his knees amid murmurs of excitement and surprise. He cups Jared’s face with both hands like a child, squishing his cheeks gently. “May I have this kiss, m’lord?” he giggles, nearly tipping over until Jared grabs him by the waist. “Ooh, someone’s getting touchy-feely,” he teases. Richard wiggles his hips.

Jared blinks, barely getting out, “Monica, he’s too drunk for this—” before Richard leans in and kisses him; wet and sloppy and loud, bracing himself on Jared’s shoulders. 

The room erupts in cheers and hollers and one, “Holy shit,” from Dinesh. But it all falls away on Richard’s ears as he deepens the kiss, slipping in his tongue for a swipe at Jared’s bottom lip before pulling away to flop back onto the couch. He lets out a loud ‘woop’ and points at Gilfoyle.

“Truth or dare?” he asks. The energy in the room is heightened now, riding on an electric current that blurs the line of what’s truth and what’s simply a dare. Gilfoyle, surely crossfaded at this point, narrows his eyes.

“I’m not kissing Dinesh, so, obviously, truth.”

Dinesh smacks his arm. “Fuck you, as if you’d be lucky enough to kiss me.”

Everybody laughs, the buzz shifting towards them now, and away from Richard. Away from his hand resting quietly next to Jared’s knee.

At some point, a few more rounds into the game, he feels Jared’s own hand creep on top of his; tentative and cool to the touch. Richard looks over at him, hazy with booze, and makes an excited face as he chokes on silent, giddy laughter.

Suddenly everybody is cheering again, and Richard whips his head over to watch Dinesh kissing Gilfoyle.

He cackles like a madman. 

 

**iv.**

 

Their washing machine had shit itself, as literally as a washing machine is able to shit itself. Soap and water and what Richard could only describe as sludge poured out from the poor possessed machine, which is how he finds himself running to the laundromat with Jared on a Thursday night. His few good shirts had been nearly ruined, and with a meeting coming up tomorrow, there was little time to spare.

The laundromat is nearly empty and they load all their clothes into four different machines, settling back on the benches. Lulls of silence intersperse their bursts of conversation; Richard talking about a new tabletop game he’d been eyeing, Jared reminiscing about his time abroad in Spain. Richard’s mid-question about a puzzling inquiry regarding Jared running with the bulls when an arm stretches over his shoulders and he’s frantically being told, “I’m sorry, but you need to kiss me.”

It should disturb Richard how naturally it comes to him, to just lean in and acquiesce, but it hardly crosses his mind. He obeys and Jared is kissing him fully and warmly, his fingers toying with the hair at the nape of Richard’s neck. He barely registers the sound of bells chiming as someone leaves the laundromat. Jared pulls away, glances around, nods to himself, satisfied.

“She’s gone,” he sighs in relief.

“Who?” Richard asks, craning his neck. He spots only a couple of elderly women and a teenager.

“It’s… I’d rather not divulge too much for her sake, but, you know,”  he shrugs, “old flame. She wanted more, I was just not looking to settle down…” he pauses, considers his words, then adds, “With her.”

“O-oh, so it… it was someone you sexed with.  _ Had _ sex with— the woman. You slept with her.” The thought turns Richard’s stomach in a strange way, similar to when he’d seen Winnie and her new boyfriend. Richard chalks it up to a fluke, and shoves it away for a later date.

“If you’d like to put it that way, yes. We did have sexual relations, but only briefly. I’m afraid she got a little more attached than I did, and it’s a can of worms I didn’t care to reopen tonight.”

He nods. “I gotcha, I gotcha. Women, am I right?” he tries to joke, but Jared makes a surprised face.

“Richard—”

“I, shit,” he slaps himself. “You know what I meant. Bad joke, sorry.”

Jared huffs out a laugh. “I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

Richard notices that Jared hasn’t moved his arm from where he’d swung it around Richard’s shoulders. He leans into it, buries his face in Jared’s shoulder as he lets out a long sigh. “How much longer on the laundry?”

“Twenty-three minutes.”

“That’s too long,” Richard whines.

“Do you want me to grab sodas from the vending machine?”

Richard doesn’t answer immediately, sits on the question for a moment. “Sure,” he says. He makes no effort to remove himself from Jared, and Jared makes no effort to move him. They sit there, listening to the clanking of the washing machines. 

They never end up getting those sodas.

 

**v.**

 

It’s November and Richard might definitely have a crush on Jared. He realizes it mid-sip of his coffee one morning as he sits at his desk, and Jared walks into the room. Jared doesn’t do anything particularly different that day, doesn’t dress any new, flashy way. He even greets Richard with the same, “Good morning, how’d you sleep?” as he stands at his own workstation. 

“Well,” Richard sputters. “I mean, I slept good. Well.” He presses his lips together and closes his eyes, tilting his head, only opening them when he hears Jared laugh.

“Sounds like someone might need a second mug of coffee.”

“Yeah, yeah, I, uh, might,” Richard mumbles into his current mug, and then adds on something else, nearly unintelligible.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Richard suddenly feels too warm underneath his jacket and scarf. He feels nauseous. Why did he say that? Why can’t he just shut up? His brain bypasses any logical thought as he continues to blurt out, “Would you… possibly want to go later? For coffee. With me, that is. I wouldn’t ask you to just go get me coffee, that’s stupid, I— Get coffee with me later?” Richard finally sighs out, words untangling themselves like a stubborn cough finally lodging itself loose from the chest. 

“Oh, yes, of course. Would you like me to tell Gilfoyle and Di—”

“It’s a date, Jared. I’m asking you on a date.”

“Oh,” Jared says, hushed. His expression is unreadable, his body language blank. Then, miraculously, he smiles. “I’d love to, Richard.” 

“Cool,” Richard nods, hiding his own smile by taking a sip of his coffee. “Cool beans,” he says. He dribbles coffee onto himself. “Oh, fuck, shit.” He sighs. “You know what, fuck it. Can you just kiss me?”

Jared laughs, and slowly shuffles over. He leans in close, lips hovering over Richard’s. “Let me get you a new mug of coffee,” he says, plucking the mug and pulling away to walk into the kitchen, leaving Richard wanting. 

“Okay, now you’re just teasing me,” he huffs. Richard shoves his chair backwards, nearly toppling over, and follows Jared into the kitchen with a grin on his face.


End file.
